


entertaining angels unawares

by kettish



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Relationship Negotiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-08 22:03:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8865001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kettish/pseuds/kettish
Summary: Bilbo was enchanted with Thorin the moment he saw him--and actually, so was Dwalin, Bilbo's partner.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bubbysbub](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubbysbub/gifts).



> For bubbysbub, whose writing I adore. Dwagginshield as requested, flufftastic without (much) angst...let me know darling if you want a smutty eventual continuation. :)

The plaza was dazzling in its festive lighting. Strings of light were festooned gaily about the square, with evergreen branches (most all fake) and glittering baubles and balls interspersed. Everyone wore coats and warm clothes to ward off the slight chill, and snow drifted down gently in just the right amount to be beautiful without being a concern.

 

Bilbo stared at the shop window and sighed, breath puffing out in a plume.

 

Only once. He’d only allow himself the one before getting on with his shopping.

 

The display he was staring at had a few things Dwalin might enjoy, but nothing Bilbo was absolutely sure of. He prefered to search until he found just the right gift, most often. It should be the thing that makes his eyes light up, that he just knew Dwalin would love and use. The decoratively carved pipes in the window were beautiful, and Dwalin occasionally enjoyed a smoke, but since he’d started working out more last year he’d cut back significantly. So that wasn’t right.

 

Not that Dwalin cared much anyway, Bilbo thought with exasperated fondness. It would have been nice to have some help with the decorations and shopping, but Dwalin had a hard time mustering the appropriate amount of enthusiasm for such things, and Bilbo had found his contributions to be uninspired and, frankly, half-assed in the past. So he’d stayed home to put together a quick dinner while Bilbo headed out to search.

 

Nothing, though. Nothing. And Bilbo always got so down this time of year. Bilbo’s face in the reflection on the window looked rather depressed.

 

Someone walked up behind him and came to a stop a few steps off, pausing to inspect the display. Bilbo continued staring moodily at the glass until something about the stranger’s face caught his eye, and he turned slightly to take a more careful look.

 

The man was tall, a good head above Bilbo, and had dark hair pulled back attractively from a beautiful face. What had caught Bilbo’s eye, however, was that he looked the same as Bilbo in a way: there was a lonely sort of melancholy to him, a dissatisfaction that seemed similar to Bilbo’s own.

 

“Shit time of year,” Bilbo said before he could think about it, and the stranger jumped. 

 

“It is,” the man said, looking a little confused as to Bilbo’s casual dismissal of the law of Christmas shopping season that states Thou Shalt Not Attempt Conversation With Thy Neighbor/Competition. 

 

“Nice weather, though,” he blurted awkwardly after a second’s pause. 

 

“Very appropriate,” Bilbo nodded. “Shopping for gifts?” The man’s face fell into glumness.

 

“For my nephews,” he said. “Little bastards already have half the toy store. I don’t know what to get them. Or where to even start.”

 

“There’s a gorgeous book store right around the corner!” Bilbo exclaimed. “You should go take a look around. Here, I’m not getting anywhere with this--let’s go see if anything looks acceptable for them. I ought to pick up a few for my nephew as well.” 

 

In the end, the stranger introduced himself as Thorin and, blushing at the fact he’d forgotten, Bilbo introduced himself as well. They sat down at the neighboring cafe after picking some titles Bilbo and Thorin both swore the other’s relatives would love, and they chatted about books they’d read and loved and hated and taken issue with. 

 

Thorin had a love/hate relationship with historical fiction, being a history professor at one of the local high schools. (“They didn’t have that until the 1800s, at least--it’s not even central to the plot, a few moments of Googling it would’ve fixed things!” “It’s young adult fiction, though, it’s not really going for historical accuracy!”) They both loved tongue-in-cheek humor in science fiction and fantasy settings, a la Hitchhiker’s Guide and Discworld, and neither of them could stand the recent spat of romance novels targeting LGBTQ+ readers. 

 

Bilbo lost track of time listening to Thorin grumble about this and that and trying to make him laugh again, just to see the smile on his face and how he threw his head back a little when he did. And so it definitely surprised him when he felt strong arms come around his shoulders and a kiss press to his head as Dwalin said hello.

 

“Dinner’s been ready for ages,” Dwalin rumbled. He glanced at Thorin, measuring him, and nodded as he stuck a hand out towards Thorin. “Dwalin. Nice to meet you.”

 

Thorin had tensed, looking unhappy, before his eyes landed on Bilbo’s hands, which had come up to fondly pat Dwalin’s arms wrapped around him. He nodded back, half standing to shake his hand, before reaching behind him to pull up a chair.

 

“I rather got caught up helping Thorin here shop for his sister’s sons,” Bilbo explained sheepishly, “and then we started talking books, and we got coffee, and the time clear got away from me.”

 

“I can see how you’d be a bit distracted,” Dwalin chuckled, eyes keen as he took in Thorin’s face and shoulders, and Bilbo flushed.

 

“Be nice,” Bilbo scolded. Dwalin laughed a little louder, muscles flexing under his thermal, and Bilbo noted how it drew Thorin’s eyes.

 

“I’m just saying! Now, what did you end up getting is the question? I better not find another copy of Captain Underpants in that bag, Bilbo, you got Frodo that one last year and he’ll be sad.” Thus he launched a fresh round of literary discussion, mostly between Thorin and Bilbo, but Dwalin had things to say about children’s literature too. 

 

“It’s gotta have a rhythm!” He said firmly. “Kids like musicality in their books. Give ‘em something they can sing.”

 

“You swore last year that children’s song books were shit,” Bilbo said dryly. Dwalin frowned mightily.

 

“They are. Always the same ten or so songs. I meant something different, but with some rhyme to it still.”

 

“Some things just don’t fit in a sonnet,” Thorin remarked, and Dwalin looked wounded.

 

“You’re supposed to be on my side! You’ve got more nephews than Bilbo, you should know.”

 

“I’m just saying not all kids books have to rhyme,” Thorin said firmly. Bilbo looked fondly at Dwalin, and then at Thorin. His stomach was warm with good coffee, he’d managed to find a new “Llama Llama” book for Frodo, and Dwalin and Thorin were getting along. Dwalin was flirting a bit even! A speculative gleam entered his eyes as he looked at them, and he pondered.

 

“I’ve got to be off,” Thorin finally said reluctantly, standing slowly and gathering his things. “Bilbo, Dwalin, it was wonderful to meet you two.”

 

“You too! We should get together again sometime soon,” Bilbo said happily, digging out his wallet to pull free a business card. He found a pen and wrote his cell number on it and his name. “Here, shoot me a text or call and we’ll have dinner.” Thorin seemed flustered all of a sudden and Dwalin grinned, taking the card and pen from where Bilbo held it out to Thorin.

 

“You should take him up on that,” Dwalin said, writing his name and number down as well. “He’s an excellent cook, I don’t know if he mentioned.”

 

“He did not,” Thorin said, looking confused still but willing to play along as he pulled his phone free to text his name to them both. Contact established, they went on their way. 

  
  


Hand in hand Dwalin and Bilbo walked to the car, lost in their own thoughts as they strolled across the parking lot. Finally, Dwalin spoke.

 

“Handsome lad,” he commented. Bilbo hummed in response. “Good taste in books.” Bilbo slowed, tugging on Dwalin’s hand to get him to stop, and looked at him for long moments in the light of the street lamps.

 

“You know I love you,” he said. Dwalin pulled Bilbo gently into a hug and nodded.

 

“I do,” he said. “And I love you too. But you know I’m not the jealous type.” Bilbo nuzzled into Dwalin’s chest comfortably, humming again. “C’mon, then. Tell me more about him and let's head home, dinner’s covered and the couch is calling my name.”

  
  


Thorin walked slowly to the main street near the shopping strip where he’d met Bilbo and hailed a cab. He gave the address of his apartment to the driver and then sank back into the seats, contemplative as he rubbed his hands together. It was ridiculous, but he swore he could still feel the warmth of Bilbo’s and Dwalin’s hands on his, and he was reluctant to let the illusion go by letting his hand get cold.

 

They were together, anyway, and happily so. He’d enjoy this little bit of what he could get, and if they wanted to be friends, well, he could always use people who drew out the less surly side of him.

  
  


The next few weeks were almost always a blur to Bilbo. To Dwalin, too, in a way, though what he saw was a Bilbo-shaped blur of holly and silver and gold, bent on decorating their home within an inch of its life and triple checking lists of what he was to cook or purchase or where he was to go.

 

Dwalin often wished Bilbo would take things a little easier during the holidays, perhaps just put his feet up and enjoy some mulled wine or buttered rum or something with him by the (gas) fire. Occasionally, Bilbo would feel caught up enough to do just that, and he and Dwalin would wrap up in a soft, warm blanket and cuddle on the couch. 

 

He was wishing wistfully for such an occasion one Saturday when his phone chirped at him with a text.

 

**Hello Dwalin, this is Thorin. Where do you box again? My gym is closed for repairs today.**

 

Dwalin perked up. “Bilbo, Thorin texted me!” 

 

“What?” Bilbo exclaimed, rushing over. He peered down critically at the phone.

 

“Ha! He texted me first,” Dwalin crowed. Bilbo scowled, thumping Dwalin on the chest.

 

“Stupid buff types,” Bilbo muttered, folding his arms and curling up on the couch next to Dwalin to sulk. Dwalin scooted just a little closer, so they were touching, and stroked Bilbo’s head once before hitting the button to reply.

 

**Downtown at 7th Street Gym. I was going over this afternoon and have a guest pass.**

 

**You sure? I don’t want to intrude**

 

**Bilbo doesn’t work out with me, I could use a good-looking gym partner.** Dwalin smirked and Bilbo laughed when he saw what Dwalin had typed.

 

“You’re coming on too strong, you’ll scare him off!” Bilbo chided, still laughing. Dwalin puffed his chest out and huffed, scowling at the phone.

 

“Don’t want to scare him off,” Dwalin finally muttered, deflating. Bilbo cuddled close.

 

“Well, you will or you won’t,” he said practically. “Too late now. Besides, he’d get this out of you sooner or later, best get it over with.”

 

The minutes until Thorin replied were tense, and the longer it drew on the unhappier Dwalin looked, until finally the phone chirped again.

 

**They don’t have mirrors at your gym?**

 

“Oh god, he’s as bad as you are,” Bilbo groaned as Dwalin smiled, unabashedly delighted. “Best go get ready then, I still have your gift to wrap so don’t come home before 3 o’clock.”

 

Dwalin heaved himself off the couch and stampeded to the bedroom to get his gym bag ready.

  
  


**You’re coming for dinner right** , Bilbo texted Thorin after Dwalin had run off. Truthfully, he was feeling a little jealous, even though he knew he ought not to be.

 

**Hi Bilbo**

 

**I’ll be sweaty, I can run home and shower first then come over?**

 

**Perfect! Any food preferences?**

 

**No bell peppers please, I’m mildly allergic.**

 

**:O OK! How sad, I was planning on cooking my famous Bell Pepper Surprise Loaf.**

 

**I can try a bite,** Thorin replied after long moments, and Bilbo grinned down fondly at his phone.

 

**Kidding! I don’t want to know how you make bell peppers into a loaf. Yuck. Sweet of you to offer, though. :)**

 

**Phew**

 

Bilbo snickered, feeling a lot better, and went to go find the felt mistletoe he hung up every year.

  
  


After his initial burst of jealousy Bilbo found he didn’t often feel that way anymore. Dwalin and Thorin started going to the gym together a couple of times a week, to Bilbo’s delight. The mental image of the two of them lifting heavy things, sweating, maybe stripping off shirts...he enjoyed it. Immensely.

 

And Thorin started texting them both throughout the day. Eventually Bilbo did the smart thing and set up a group text conversation, and they all sent pictures of things that happened during the day, or asked for opinions, updated each other on plans. It was all lovely and domestic and Bilbo found he desperately wanted more.

 

“Can we please just kiss him,” Bilbo whined plaintively one day, hugging Dwalin’s back as Dwalin set up the coffee maker for the next morning. “This is driving me crazy. Dwalin. Dwalin.”

 

“Fuck’s sake, stop whining and go for it,” Dwalin grumbled. Bilbo pinched his side in retaliation for his grumpiness. “Ouch! You bastard stop it.”

 

“Don’t act like you wouldn’t toss him onto the bed in three seconds flat,” Bilbo muttered. Dwalin snorted.

 

“Two seconds, easily.”

 

“So what’s the hold up?”

 

Dwalin shrugged uneasily. “I just...he keeps backing off.” Bilbo pressed his cheek against Dwalin’s back again as Dwalin finished up and shoved the coffee back into the cabinet. Thinking back, he knew what Dwalin meant. They’d all have a few drinks after dinner, then get comfortable watching a movie on the couch or chatting. But there was a line Thorin seemed to draw in the sand and wouldn’t cross, even as he led them all the way up to it; he’d go so far as to be pressed tight against them a line of warmth against their sides, even put a hand on their knee or around their shoulders, but he wouldn’t lean into them, and if they reciprocated the gesture he would politely excuse himself. It was confusing. Dwalin stood patiently as Bilbo mulled it over.

 

“We’ll have to just ask him I think,” Bilbo finally said. Dwalin sighed gustily.

 

“Alright.”

  
  
  


**What are you doing Christmas Eve** Bilbo texted the next day. The Fundinsons and Baggins-Tooks usually had their celebrations a few days before, not Christmas Eve or day of, and Bilbo had been meaning to ask Thorin about his family’s traditions. Thorin had remarkably little to say about his own family, besides his sister and nephews.

 

**Probably nothing. Dis and the boys have a dinner on Christmas Day.**

 

**Come over and eat with us! We’ve got nothing going on either and would love to have you.** Bilbo snickered at the double entendre before shaking it off and waiting for Thorin’s reply. Five minutes passed, even though Bilbo knew Thorin was on his lunch break, and then:

 

**What time**

 

He grinned giddily and told him.

  
  


“Dwalin, I can’t do this,” Bilbo said.

 

“Can’t do what?” Dwalin shouted back from the living room where he was shoving Bilbo and Thorin’s presents under the tree. 

 

“I can’t ask him! Dwalin, what if he genuinely isn’t interested? What if we drive him away? I can’t,” Bilbo said helplessly. He’d been so excited to have Thorin over, but as the days wore on and Christmas Eve grew closer his stress over the holidays had combined with stress about Thorin’s answer to their proposition, and now he was ready to combust.

 

“Sweetheart,” Dwalin rumbled, hugging Bilbo. “It’ll be fine. Thorin likes us too, even if he doesn’t like us like that. Worst case scenario we’ll all be awkward for a while and then go back to business as usual.”

 

“We don’t even--we don’t even actually know if he’s gay or not! What if he’s straight? Or ace? What if he’s just not attracted to us? To me? I know he likes looking at you.”

 

“Are you listening to yourself talk?” Dwalin asked incredulously. “Do you actually know how many times I’ve seen him eyeing your ass? Come on now.” Bilbo stared at him.

 

“He what.”

 

“Every time you bend over, just about,” Dwalin confided. “Used to be he’d try and hide it, but I think he thinks I’m doing the same thing now or just don’t care, because he just straight stares.”

 

“...that would have been nice to know,” Bilbo finally said. Dwalin barked a laugh before rubbing Bilbo’s arm a final time and going back to the living room. Bilbo followed him, anxiety on his heels like a dog.

 

“And you’re OK with this too, right?” Bilbo asked. Dwalin heaved a sigh and then yanked Bilbo down onto the couch, trying to smother him against his chest. Bilbo squawked. “Let me go!”

 

“We talked about it, right?” Dwalin said lowly, loosening his hold so that Bilbo could get comfortable. “I told you. I love you. I think I love Thorin, too, and so do you. So let’s try. If he’ll have us.” Bilbo melted into him, the last of his anxiety melting away. 

 

The doorbell rang just as they started drifting off, and they jumped up.

  
  


They ate the delicious meal Bilbo and Dwalin had worked together to cook, and afterwards had dessert and an amazing high-end whiskey that Thorin had brought along. It wasn’t Bilbo’s favorite drink by far but was of excellent quality and warmed his stomach beautifully.

 

They retreated to the couch after they were done, opting to pile dishes by the sink and shove leftovers unceremoniously in the fridge instead of doing a full clean-up. Thorin almost fell back with an “oof,” directly in the middle of the couch, and Dwalin bit back a grin. He and Bilbo had maneuvered him into the middle time and time again, and Thorin seemed to like it.

 

He pressed close to Thorin’s side, an arm up on the back of the couch, and Bilbo took the opportunity to lay out on the opposite end, putting his feet in Thorin’s lap before clicking the television on and flipping idly to some Christmas special or the other.

 

Thorin watched it, relaxed, and put his hand on Bilbo’s ankles to stroke a thumb along a tendon. Bilbo heaved a sigh of contentment. Dwalin appeared to be making the effort to become one with the sofa, eyes sliding shut in bliss. On screen, Rudolph (in glorious claymation) drifted on an ice floe far from home.

 

“This is perfect,” Thorin murmured, drowsy with food and whiskey and warmth, and Bilbo nodded in agreement.

 

“You should stay,” Bilbo said as Rudolph discovered his loved ones were in trouble and charged forward to rescue them. 

 

“It is a comfortable couch,” Thorin agreed, and Dwalin huffed a desperate laugh.

 

“With us, he means,” Dwalin said. “You should stay with us.” Thorin seemed to ponder that, his frown growing more pronounced as he woke up to the conversation they were having.

 

“You two don’t exactly have room,” he replied cautiously. His thumb had stopped stroking Bilbo’s ankle and now he just gripped it, his posture growing more tense.

 

“We could make room,” Bilbo offered. “Get a bigger bed. Or find a bigger place.” 

 

“What are you talking about?” Thorin demanded. “You don’t need a roommate, neither do I--”

 

“We’re asking if you could see yourself with us romantically,” Dwalin cut in bluntly, pulling Thorin up short. Thorin gaped.

 

“You don’t--you don’t mean that,” he gasped. He twisted to look down at Bilbo with wide eyes, only to meet Bilbo’s soft, open expression.

 

“We do,” Bilbo said, heaving himself up carefully to sit level with Thorin and Dwalin. He put a hand gently over Thorin’s, giving him time to move if he wanted, and smiled wide when Thorin allowed it. “Thorin. We’ve liked you since the moment we met you. It’s not traditional, and I know we haven’t even asked how you feel about relationships, but to us--to us, you’re worth the risk. We had to ask.”

 

Thorin was bright red now across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, mouth open as he looked wildly between Dwalin and Bilbo, checking his response.

 

“Stay with us,” Dwalin said. An offer. 

 

“Please,” Bilbo amended. Thorin looked dumbfounded, but there was an expression of wonder lighting his eyes, smoothing the wrinkles at the corners and the furrow of his brow.

 

“You’re serious,” he said. Bilbo grinned helplessly, reaching up to pull Thorin’s head down a little, and brushed his nose gently against Thorin’s, and moving down to press cheek against cheek.

 

“We’re serious,” Dwalin confirmed, pulling them in a little closer, and Thorin’s eyes were bright when he finally looked up again at them both.

 

“Merry Christmas, then,” he said hoarsely, and kissed first Bilbo then Dwalin breathlessly.

  
On screen, Rudolph and the other reindeer flew out of sight. None of the men on the couch noticed when it switched over to infomercials, as they were busy celebrating themselves.


End file.
